


Hey, I Just Met You and This Is Crazy

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, bucky needs to stop, jesus christ but can you not flirt with everything on two legs i fucking swear you smug asshole, ladykiller barnes, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wakes up on a hot stranger's couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, I Just Met You and This Is Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen so many "oops I broke into your house and crashed on your couch" aus and I wanted to join the fest, so here.  
> the title was shamelessly stolen from Call Me Maybe

“The fuck,” says Bucky as he slowly comes to, eyes assaulted by a ray of cheery sunlight shining directly into his face with a burning vengeance from hundreds of thousands of miles away. He wants to punch it.

Bucky grimaces, smacking his lips. His mouth tastes absolutely foul and his tongue is drier than the bottom of Death Valley but hell if he’s gonna get up to brush his teeth. Bucky tries to turn away from the window, to bury himself deeper into the cushions, but as soon as he moves his head, he’s forced to stop from the crashing headache and the monstrous crick in his neck.

He regrets finishing off that bottle of vodka.

“What the fuck,” Bucky repeats. It makes him feel a bit better, but not really.

His surroundings seem unfamiliar, but that might just be a result of his wild night of solo drinking. He looks around, wondering if Natasha got new curtains. He doesn’t remember seeing pastel blue curtains and window boxes the last time he crashed over at her place. She always killed her plants, and hell if Nat’d let pastel anything into her house.

Bucky lounges on the couch for a bit before the sound of banging pans and the rich scent of coffee wafting in from the kitchen overwhelm his senses. Bucky would rather go back to sleep, but the clamor just won’t stop and the siren song of caffeine is too strong for his alcohol-addled mind to resist.

Okay then, up.

Bucky mentally prepares himself, sitting up with a groan, and then shrieks with fright as a big silver tabby leaps onto his lap. It later turns into a wail of pain as the cat starts digging its claws in and out of his thighs.

“ARRGH GET OFF ME!”

Pounding footsteps come from the kitchen, which is weird, because Nat moves like a spider, light and silent, and the cat shoots across the room. A second later, Nat’s standing there brandishing a spatula- except-

“What the fuck?” Says Bucky for the third time that day. That’s…not Nat.

“You’re not Nat.”

Nat doesn’t have sandy blond hair and a crooked nose that looks as if it’d been broken at least once, which shouldn’t be hot, but somehow is.

No, it’s definitely not his curvy redheaded friend, although the person before him could certainly give her a run for her money with pecs like those. He is _built_ , with biceps the size of Bucky’s head straining at tired shirtsleeves, a killer jaw that looks as if it could be used to smash through walls, slim legs that go on for miles, and bony wrists attached to long callused fingers.

Dude looks like a hero from an action movie or something. He’s so Bucky’s type.

“ _Whoa_ ,” breathes Bucky softly.

He would totally be tapping that if he wasn’t incoherent with pain.

The guy looks to be at a loss. He scratches the back of his neck with a free hand and squints at Bucky, lowering the spatula.

“Uh.” He clears his throat. “Who’s Nat? And what were you doing to Sir?”

Bucky blinks out of his daze. “Sir?” _What the hell?_ “Well, your crazy kitty cat here decided to go for a climb and chose _my_ legs to dig its little demon claws into, okay pal? I _really_ don’t need this right now.”

Tall, Blond, and Beautiful looks uncomfortable, and Bucky winces internally, cursing himself. Typical Hungover Bucky, being a dick to cute bangable men. There’s honestly no accounting for his rudeness, even if he is feeling a bit under the weather.

“Jesus f- sorry, sorry, sorry-“ Bucky yammers, “I just have this awful hangover and your cat cut my legs up and I’m being a complete asshole- just- lemme get out of your hair.”

Bucky is reluctant to move, but he swings his legs over the side of the couch and stands up, swaying. His empty left sleeve flaps against his shirt. Blondie’s eyes flicker down for a second, brow creasing. Bucky tenses. If Hot, Hunky, and Delicious mentions his missing arm, he was gonna fuck shit up, but instead, the guy reaches out, palm facing him, as if coaxing a wild animal to his side.

“No, no, it’s fine. You look like you need some aspirin and breakfast. How about you stay for a bit, and leave when you feel better?”

Bucky gawks for a minute. Unbelievable.

“You’re telling me that you want to serve breakfast to a hungover stranger who just broke into your home and slept on your couch and yelled at you and your cat? Buddy, you’re insane. How are you still alive? I bet you’d give your worldly possessions to a homeless person who just wants a cup of coffee and give them the keys to your car and house while you’re at it, too. Jeez. Do you have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever?”

Blondie mumbles something, suddenly interested in the floor and crosses his arms, then realizes he’s still holding the spatula and uncrosses them, trying to casually slip his hand into the nonexistent pockets of his sweatpants.

Bucky can see him starting to panic, fingers bumping uselessly at his hips, grappling for something to say. He takes pity on him.

“Hey.”

He looks up, and Bucky regrets catching his attention because _god_ , does this guy have the craziest lashes ever or what? His eyes belong in an anime or something, they’re that sparkly and blue. Bucky wonders if he’s hearing wind chimes and smelling cherry blossoms- it certainly would fit the context.

“I guess I can stay. But Jesus Christ, you need to be careful inviting random people to eat with you. I might turn out to be a serial killer and stab you over your bacon for all you know.”

Massive Pecs laughs softly, and all awkwardness eases from the line of his shoulders. Then he jerks his chin in the direction of the kitchen.

“’kay, let’s go eat before breakfast burns.”

They both smell the scent of burning bacon, and then the smoke detector goes off.

“Shit _.”_

***

 

Over plates of scrambled eggs, (slightly burnt) bacon, and toast, Bucky discovers the eighth wonder of the world’s name.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” he says.

“Bucky Barnes.” replies Bucky, and they solemnly shake hands over the sugar.

They share a grin, and Bucky picks up his mug of coffee and moans at the taste. God bless the bean.

He looks back at Steve only to see him go wide-eyed and pink to the tips of his ears over the rim of his own mug.

Huh. So Steve Rogers is a Possibly Gay Beefcake Extraordinaire? He could work with that. He could _definitely_ work with that.

Bucky stuffs the rest of the toast into his mouth and gives himself a minute before speaking.

“So. The cat.”

“My cat?”

Bucky snorts. “D’you see any other cat here, pal? What’s the deal with his attitude?”

“I, uh volunteer at the animal shelter on weekends, and met her there.” Wow. Hottie with a heart of gold? Jackpot.

“She had to be given up, since the family was moving and they couldn’t take her with them.”

Bucky makes a noise of sympathy, and Steve pauses to take another sip of coffee, wrinkling his nose. He spoons in a couple mounds of sugar and gives it a stir, tasting it again and nodding in satisfaction.

Bucky motions in encouragement, silently asking him to continue.

“Anyway, I was transferring her to her cage, when she latched onto me with her claws and just wouldn’t let go. They warned me she liked to climb things.” That was one thing Bucky had in common with the cat at least. He’d give anything to climb Steve like a goddamn tree.

“Good thing I was wearing gloves or I would’ve been mauled to death, right?” Bucky’s thigh twinges in sympathy. “But yeah. That was when I knew she was the one.”

“And her name?”

Steve’s teeth catch on his lower lip as he chews for a moment, embarrassed.

“Sir Snugglebottoms. The kid who named her was five years old, and I couldn’t bear changing her name, so I just call her Sir, for short. Although, with the way she acts, something tells me that she would’ve been a sir anyway.”

He chuckles at that, and Bucky rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

_We’re no strangers to love…you know the rules, and so do I_

“Ah, fuck, Nat,” hisses Bucky, as Rick Astley’s voice floats up from his crotch. Bucky fumbles his phone out of his pocket with a triumphant _aha!_ And accepts the call, smiling apologetically at Steve. _Sorry_ , he mouths.

Steve shrugs and eats a piece of bacon.

“ _James, where are you?”_

“Er, at a friend’s house?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow at that and Bucky shoots him a glare.

“ _You texted me at 2:30 in the morning telling me how much you loved my hair and that you were coming over to braid it. Needless to say, I was a bit concerned when I woke up this morning to see a distinct lack of man-child crashed out on my couch.”_

“Hey,” Bucky interrupts, indignant.

“ _Don’t deny it, Barnes. You know it’s true. Now who’s this friend you’re with? I wasn’t aware you knew anyone else other than your army boys and me and Barton.”_

“They’re not my only friends, Nat.” mutters Bucky, pouting at the wall. He tucks the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, and flips the fork between his fingers, trying to think of something to say. Steve is watching with a smirk on his face, enjoying Bucky’s end of the conversation.

“He’s, um, a guy I met recently.” _Really_ recently. Like, ten minutes ago recently.

“ _What’s his name?_ ”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.” Steve gives the phone a dorky little wave.

“ _You’re kidding,”_ Says Natasha flatly. He can hear her rolling her eyes. “ _your new friend just happens to be the two hundred and forty pounds of pure American meatball who’s also my_ next door neighbor _?”_

“What.”

“ _Barnes, you_ imbecile _, did you BREAK INTO MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE TRYING TO FIND MINE?”_

“Uh,”

Nat makes a noise of disgust. “ _Well, at least he’s a nice guy. He’d probably try to stop you from leaving with a hangover and feed you up or something.”_

“Well _.”_

“ _Oh my God he did, didn’t he? James, you lucky idiot. He’s so hot and totally bi, too. You should definitely put the moves on him..”_

“Jesus Christ.” Nat only came in three modes: embarrassing aunt, dad jokes, and gives no fucks secret agent. Bucky hated Embarrassing Aunt Nat.

“ _Have fun, dickwad.”_

 _“_ Good riddance, you horrid witch.”

Bucky puts down the fork and ends the call, meeting Steve’s amused gaze.

“So Nat’s your neighbor and I totally broke into the wrong house.”

“Yup.”

“Wow, have I fucked up majorly or what.”

Steve makes the _eh_ gesture with his hand. “Somewhat.”

***

Bucky stays for another half hour, helping himself to a second cup of coffee and drying the dishes, despite Steve’s “You don’t need to do that, Buck.”

It’s a bit of an effort with only his one arm, but Bucky finds a way by trapping the plates between his stomach and the drying rack and rubbing them down with the dishtowel. Steve keeps glancing over to see if he needs any help.

But after all the utensils are sparkling and the table is wiped free of crumbs, Bucky’s escorted to the door by a very unwilling Steve.

“It was nice meeting you, Steve. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yeah, you too, Buck.” Steve takes a breath.

“Or. You could stay. Just a bit longer. I liked having you here.”

And boy, does Bucky want that. Except he’s already taken advantage of Steve’s kindness, and he tells him so.

“No, no, you weren’t a bother at all! You’ve been really helpful and you’re really funny.” Steve hesitates, then barrels on, determined. “But you’ll come see me when you visit Natasha, right? It gets lonely, here, sometimes, with just me and Sir...”

Steve trails off, and Bucky grins. “Stevie, are you asking me to go steady with you?” he drawls, all Brooklyn-boy charm and then some, actually feeling up to a bit of flirting now that he’s got some caffeine in him.

Steve’s face blushes as red as a ripe tomato, from hairline to neck, and probably even under his shirt. Oh yeah. He’ll definitely be coming back.

“I’d like to find out how far down that blush goes. Let me see sometime?”

He leaves Steve standing frozen in the doorway, gaping after him.

It’s a nice way to start a Saturday.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a month ago and it just sat there in a sad little folder on my computer but since I'm taking a break from my other fic, I decided to post a lil something to distract you guys  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


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